


Just Desserts

by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylsdarkplace/pseuds/Syls%20Darkplace





	Just Desserts

**Description:** Wincest drabble  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** ~2,500  
 **D** **isclaimer:**  These characters are the property of Kripke & Co. No profit is being made from this post.

Dean needed to get laid. There was just no two ways about it. He shifted restlessly in the front seat of the Impala and watched the window of the diner. He could see a couple of waitresses moving between tables and another girl at the counter. They ranged in age from barely legal to ‘yes, ma’am,’ but he wouldn’t push any of them off his face. Well, maybe.

He glanced at his watch. Almost closing time. He got out of the car to the familiar creak of hinges and headed into the diner.

The girl at the counter grinned and snapped her gum as he approached. She was tiny. He could probably span her waist with his hands. Her dark hair was pulled up off her delicate neck with a clip, and her blue eyes sparkled.

“Hey there, what can I get you?” she asked.

Dean slid onto a stool and gave her a broad smile. He looked up at the menu board above the back counter. “I’d like a bacon cheeseburger with fries, a grilled chicken sandwich with lettuce, tomato and mayo, and a side salad with that vinaigrette stuff.”

“Okay, that all?” she raised her eyebrow.

“Yeah, to go,” Dean said to Barely Legal.

Her lips pushed into a slight pout, and she disappeared into the kitchen. An older waitress stepped behind the counter and dumped an armload of dirty dishes into the bus bin. She leaned on the counter with one hand and cocked her hip.

“Hey sugar, you been helped?” she asked in a husky voice. Too many smoky bars, Dean thought – bet Barfly knows her way around a cock though.

The third waitress – lean, heavy eyeliner, a wreath of silver rings up the edge of her ear – began to wipe down the counter.

“He got it to go,” Goth Chick said.

“You need anything else to go, honey?” Barfly said to Dean.

Goth Chick rolled her eyes behind Barfly’s back. Dean grinned at them.

“No, thanks, I have someone waiting at home.”

Barfly made a sour face, and Goth Chick went back to cleaning up. Dean drummed his fingers on the counter. That’s when he noticed a cooler of beer in the corner. How could he have missed that?

“Can I get a six-pack of MGD too?”

Goth Chick turned and slid the cooler door open.

“On second thought, make that Heineken,” he said.

Barely Legal emerged from the kitchen as Goth Chick set the beer on the counter. Dean stood and pulled his wallet out.

“What do I owe you ladies?”

Barfly rang up his tab as Barely Legal put his meals in a plastic bag.

“$21.65, honey.”

Dean handed her a twenty and a five. “Keep the change.”

He picked up his purchases and headed for the door.

“You come on back if she doesn’t appreciate it, honey.”

“Dean looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Oh believe me, he will.”

He just caught sight of Barfly’s jaw dropping before he pushed the door open, and Goth Chick’s laughter followed him into the night.

He had just turned down three opportunities to get laid. Three. He shook his head. One young and tasty, one experienced and a little kinky, one needy and grateful. He could have had his pick, and there was a time when that’s what he would have done. Even after this thing began with Sam, he would have scratched this itch with someone else if Sam was preoccupied, but not anymore.

He slid into the driver’s seat and palmed his cock. He’d learned from experience that random pussy was no better than his hand, and he’d already beat off twice that day, five times yesterday. It relieved the pressure, but it wasn’t what he needed. He needed big hands that bruised, a mouth that devoured, a hot, tight hole that held him together.

It wasn’t that Sam was denying him or ignoring him. It’s just that when Sam’s big brain got working on a problem, it was like a mule with blinders. It just kept plowing that row. Dean was determined to tear the blinders off. There were two ways to do that: The obvious way that would lead to kicking and bucking or the subtle way with a bag of oats, so to speak.

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking space in front of their motel room and gathered up the bags containing their dinner. He let himself into the room and wasn’t surprised to find Sam right where he’d been when Dean left – at the table with the laptop in front of him.

Dean took the Styrofoam carry-out containers out of the bag. “I got dinner,” he said as he slid two of them toward Sam.

“Yeah, good,” Sam replied without looking up.

Dean pulled the six pack out of the paper bag and set the green and white box conspicuously close to the computer. Sam glanced at it and then back to the computer screen. He frowned. His gaze went back to the six-pack and then up at Dean where he still stood next to the table.

“Imported beer?”

Dean shrugged and opened his carry-out container. “I figured you could use a break. You’ve really been at the research. Wouldn’t want your processor to overheat.”

“Right.” Sam’s lips twitched and his eyes swept over the table. “No pie?”

Dean looked up and smirked. “I was kind of thinking of something else for dessert.”

Sam stood and reached out to Dean. His hand slid along his brother’s jaw line, fingertips coming to rest in the divot at the base of Dean’s skull. They urged Dean forward.

“We could have an appetizer,” Sam said.

“And dessert?” Dean leaned in and kissed Sam’s neck.

“Sure.” Sam’s hands slid up under Dean’s shirt.

Dean might have been embarrassed at the way he was pulling at Sam and rubbing against him if he had any self-awareness at that moment. Sam said ‘yes’ so Dean needed, wanted now.

“Sammy, listen, I hate to wolf down the appetizer, but I’m starving.”

Sam made a frustrated growl. “Can we linger over dessert?”

“As long as you want.”

“Okay.” Sam pulled away and Dean’s hand shot out to pull him back in. “Get the lube,” Sam said.

“Fuck.” Dean grabbed the bottle from his duffle and lowered his fly. When he turned back, Sam was already standing with his back to Dean and his jeans around his knees. Dean pulled out his cock and slicked it with lube as Sam bent over the back of a chair and grabbed the arms. Dean put one hand on Sam’s hip to steady him and used the other to push head of his prick between his brother’s ass cheeks.

There was a time when Dean would have prepped Sam – slick fingers pushing in, working, caressing, scissoring – but not anymore. Especially not when Dean was like this. And they did this so often, it just wasn’t necessary. Sam opened for him so pretty.

“Come on, Dean, what are you waiting for?” Sam tipped his ass up in the air.

Dean pushed at the resistance that was suddenly not there, and he was sliding into warmth, comfort, home. He knew it was sick, but there it was. Sam was his home, and never more than now.

“Oh fuck, so ready for me,” Dean said.

“Yeah, yeah, Dee, always.”

Dean grabbed both of Sam’s hips and flat out fucked – skin slapping, fingers bruising, moaning, cursing fucked. Dean really hadn’t used much lube and that hot, tight channel was clinging and rubbing, and Sam was gasping, grunting.

“Fuck, fuck, yeah, like that, like that.”

Dean could feel his balls tightening, tension coiled low in his gut. “Oh God, Sammy.” Dean reached under Sam and began to strip his cock. Sam let out a cry and his muscles clenched so hard around Dean’s cock that it threw Dean’s rhythm off. But Dean only had a couple more thrusts left in him anyway before his orgasm hit like an avalanche that nearly knocked him from his feet. He bent forward with his forehead on Sam’s spine, fingers digging farther into Sam’s skin.

“Dean, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Get off me.”

Dean stood upright and let his soft dick slide from his brother’s ass followed by a trickle of come. Dean rubbed his thumb in it and let his thumb slide into Sam’s hole. He pushed in and out a few times.

“Are you through playing? I’d like to eat before it gets too cold.”

Dean picked up a couple of napkins and pressed them against Sam’s anus. Sam pulled up his shorts but kicked his jeans off. Dean tucked his cock in and zipped up.

Dean wiped his hands on a napkin and opened a couple of beers. Sam made an ‘eww’ face but drank from his bottle anyway.

“Shut up.”

“Your thumb was just in my ass.”

“You lick my ass all the time.”

Sam shrugged and ate some salad.

“My fries are cold,” Dean said.

“Dude, you love cold fries. Anyway, would you have rather skipped the appetizer?”

Dean just shook his head and took a bite of his burger.

Sam smiled. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

They ate in quiet for awhile before Sam broke the silence.

“So you feeling better?”

“Starting to.” Dean took a long pull off the beer bottle. “So what’s for dessert?”

Sam smiled that sly smile of his, slanted eyes glinting. “I get to pick dessert.”

“Sure, Sammy, why not?”

Sam dropped his fork in what was left of his salad. “Okay, let’s go.”

“What?” Dean said around the last mouthful of burger. “I have some fries left.”

“Shut up and take your clothes off.”

Dean took a drink of beer and got up from the table. He left a trail of clothing – flannel shirt, t-shirt, jeans, boxers, socks – from the table to the bed.

“Get on the bed,” Sam said behind him. Dean crawled onto the bed, turned, Sam was right behind him, naked as the day he was born. Dean loves every inch – all that golden skin and hard muscle, every scar, hard, dripping cock curving toward his stomach. Dean reached out and curled his fingers around it as Sam moved forward. Dean rubbed a thumb through the slippery precome at the tip. Sam crushed their mouths together and bore Dean onto his back with his weight.

Sam’s mouth was hard and soft, wet, and tangy with vinegar and beer. Dean groaned at the hard lengths of their dicks rubbed together between them. Sam sucked at the thin skin of Dean’s throat.

“Sam, Sam.”

“Shh, gonna take care of you.”

Sam slid down and sucked one of Dean’s nipples between his lips and his fingers toyed with the other. Dean’s cock spurted a gob of precome, and he wriggled under Sam. One of his hands was fisted in Sam’s hair and the other gripped his shoulder.

“Sam, please.”

“You promised we could linger, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah, but …Sam.”

Sam chuckled and began to kiss a trail down Dean’s body pausing to lick, suckle, nip at every muscle, dip, or scar. Dean was bucking trying to make contact between his dick and any part of his brother. Sam pushed his forearm down against Dean’s pelvis.

“Behave.”

“Sam, but Sam.”

Sam laughed out loud then and flicked his tongue out at the precome beading on the crown of Dean’s prick. Dean tried to push his cock up against Sam’s lips.

“Dean, I’m warning you.”

But Dean did it again. He couldn’t help himself. It had been so long, and he needed Sam so bad. The appetizer really had just whetted his appetite.

“That’s it.” Sam sat up but remained kneeling between Dean’s legs. He picked up the bottle of lube he’d tossed on the bed earlier. Sam popped the lid and poured a little onto his hand. Then, he slicked his cock.

“Sam.”

“It’ll be okay. I know what you need.”

This was not okay – probably not, although Sam looked pretty confident – Dean wasn’t usually the receiver, and he wasn’t so sure that this wasn’t going to hurt like hell. He watched Sam’s hand sliding over his cock – long, thick, hard – Dean swallowed.

“Just relax,” Sam said. Sam pressed the head of his cock against Dean’s tightly furled hole. Sam was looking down, watching his dick stretch Dean open, and Dean was watching Sam until … holy fuck, Dean threw his head back. He was used to pain and this wasn’t so painful, but it was the intrusion coupled with being split open, spitted on Sam’s cock. Sam stopped with the crown just stretching the opening. He ran his hand up the inside of Dean’s thigh caressing the sensitive skin, and then he began to push in again. It burned, but it was filling Dean in a familiar and grounding way. Sam. Sam’s.

When Sam’s hips were pressed firmly against Dean’s buttocks he stopped, leaned forward and caught Dean’s mouth in a sloppy kiss.

“You okay?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, yeah, Sammy.”

Sam propped himself up on his hands and began a steady push and pull. The pain faded, and he lost himself to the claim Sam was making on him. All the loss and fear and second-guessing were draining from him as he was filled with Sam’s attention and reassurance. Dean raised his hips, and Sam pushed Dean’s legs up onto his shoulders. The angle brought Sam’s cock rubbing over Dean’s prostate again and again, and pleasure was building there threatening to tear him apart. Dean began to strip his cock as the tension built inside him.

“Dean, fuck, I gotta …” Sam’s eyes squeezed shut and slammed into Dean sending bursts of sparks behind Dean’s eyelids.

“Fuck, Sam.” Hot, wet jizz spilled over his hand and stomach.

Sam rode through his orgasm, pumping Dean full of his come. Sam opened his eyesand looked a little bewildered. Dean clenched his rectal muscles, and Sam winced.

“Stop it.”

“A little sensitive, princess?” Dean asked.

Sam laughed. “Who’s on his back with a dick in his ass, princess?”

“Hey.” Dean scowled. “Usually, you. Just remember that.”

Sam let his cock slide free of Dean’s ass, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he covered Dean with his body and kissed his brother. Then, let his head fall to Dean’s shoulder.

“So how was dessert?” Dean asked.

“Like cherry pie,” Sam mumbled.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah? Think we could have apple now?”

He felt as much as heard Sam’s laughter deep in his chest. Dean sighed and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“We should have dessert more often,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I’ve been saying, Sammy.”

**The end.**

_Thanks for reading. I would love to hear from you._

  



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